The First
by BizarreSerenity
Summary: "No one has ever seen my face and lived to tell it." Of course they hadn't. But Korra was willing to test that theory. Amorra, AmonxKorra, rated M for possible later chapters.


"No one has ever seen my face and lived to tell it."

Amon's casual answer made Korra's blood run cold in her veins, like icy shards of glassy frost pulsing in her heart.

Sweat ran in rivulets down her back, spine shuddering in time to each breath that she took.

Korra blamed her pride and stupidity for the whole ordeal, but, as usual, refused to move or back down.

She stood in the dim, deserted alley of an old Tea House in Republic City with her feet braced apart, her muscles coiled like springs as tense fear gnawed at the back of her mind.

Alone, in an alley, with her worst enemy.

The very man who could be the undoing of the Avatar Cycle.

And _Gods,_ was she terrified.

He stood before her, eyes as blue as sapphires, shining in the dim light.

It was as if he was staring directly into Korra's soul, searching through it, judging her, drinking in every single little thought and detail that resided in her body.

And although Korra hated that gaze, she couldn't bring herself to look away, or stop wondering what was actually under the mask that covered his face.

He had told the tale at many of his Equalist rallies. Korra herself had heard it a total of five times now, and each time she could not stop the shiver of shame and compassion that seemed to resonate down to her very bones. She wanted to comfort this man, this monster, who threatened all of her Tribe and those who could bend. She wanted to show him that Fire wasn't just destructive, that Earth wasn't just capable of disaster, that Water couldn't only drown and Air wasn't meant only for suffocation.

Korra wanted to show him the beauty of the elements, wanted to show him the wonder and the brilliance of the scars that lay beyond the shard of carved porcelain that hid his face from the world.

She wanted it so fiercely that her blood boiled, no longer icy and afraid.

The tips of her fingers twitched, and she longed to hold him, to destroy that mask, see his darkest secrets.

Korra stepped forward, timidly at first, but then with rising confidence.

Her hands, which had been curled tightly into savage fists after she had asked him if he ever took off 'that creepy mask' relaxed, little splits cut into the flesh of her palm from her sharp nails. Tiny beads of blood rose the the surface, and she winced slightly at the stinging pain.

She reached out, slowly, as if he was a wild animal she didn't want to startle.

Amon didn't move.

Breath burned in her chest as she leaned in, placing her palm on one cheek of his mask.

The porcelain was cool to the touch, but warmed instantly at the contact with her skin.

She expected him to attack her, and braced herself for pain.

His eyes never left hers, and made her dizzy with their intensity.

No pain.

Slowly, carefully, she placed her other hand on the other side of the mask, letting out the breath that she had been holding.

Why wasn't he blocking her bending?

Why was he just standing there, and letting her touch him?

Korra let out another breath, dizzy beyond belief, and shivered.

That mask was truly terrifying.

Korra told herself over and over again that it was just a piece of painted, carved porcelain, that it meant nothing.

But those sinister cut eyes made her shake in fear.

And Amon knew that fact all too well.

That face-that-was-not-a-face was created to strike fear into the hearts of all benders.

She curled her fingers around the edges of the mask, the tips brushing warm, rough skin beneath.

Instantly, his hands were on hers, warm, gloved, and impossibly strong.

They covered hers and then some, powerful hands that could take bending and snap necks in mere seconds.

Hands over her hands.

"Please." Her voice was a hoarse whisper, transfixed by the weight of those hands. "I need to see. Let me be the first."

She felt crazy, stupid, more prideful than ever.

Korra was willing to bet her bending that not even Amon's second in command had seen his face.

And, here she was, his worst enemy, asking for the privilege.

The dull roar of Republic City had faded out. Korra could hear nothing save for the sound of her heart, pounding fast and hard in her chest.

Korra felt rather than heard Amon let out a deep, controlled breath. She dug her fingertips harder into the sides of the mask, and breathed with him, feeling weightless and almost drugged from his intense gaze.

Then his hands curled around hers and lifted, ever so slowly, ever so gently, the mask coming away in their hands.

She didn't make a sound.

Didn't gasp.

Didn't breathe.

Didn't even bat an eyelash.

He was perfection, and he was chaos.

He was peace, and he was discord.

He was beauty, and he was the beast.

Through the ropes of scar tissue Korra found sharp, regal cheek bones and a perfect nose, and eyebrows that were highly arched. His bottom lip was gouged deeply, as if the fire had ravaged him there first, another scar carved in a half moon on the side of his left eye, framing it. Dark, silky hair was cut jaggedly at his earlobes, a shade of dark brown that seemed almost black.

He almost looked like the men of her Tribe, had he not possessed such regal features.

And Korra thought the scars made him striking, terrifying, beautiful.

They made him _Amon._

She couldn't help but stare and drink in every single detail of his face, burning it as deep as she could in her memory. Korra doubted that she would ever see his face again, and wanted to remember it for the rest of her life.

Lost in her stupor, she didn't notice when Amon's hands left hers, or when the mask fell to the cobbled ground, clinking loudly in the desolate alley.

However, she did notice when Amon slammed her back first into the alley's brick wall, pinning her there with strong hands.

Her eyes went round and scared, and she tried to move.

He had her pressed so tightly against the wall that she couldn't move an inch.

Korra was trapped.

The rough bricks dug into her bare shoulders, and she winced at the pain of his hands, which were clamped tightly onto her forearms, pinning her in place.

She struggled, and managed to wedge her knee between his legs, forcing him to lean closer.

Their foreheads pressed together, noses brushing, and Korra fought the desire to crack her skull against his and try to flee.

It was no use.

He had her right where he wanted.

And his last words echoed in her mind, sending shivers down her spine.

"_No one has ever seen my face and lived to tell it."_

His eyes stared into hers, intense, and full of an emotion that she couldn't identify.

She was shaking now, not just from fear but from something hot and burning that smouldered like embers deep in the pit of her stomach, crawling up like hands, reaching through the rest of her body.

"Are you going to kill me?"

She was proud that her voice didn't crack or shake, and managed a smirk.

That smirk disappeared at the dangerous look his eyes took on, the brilliant blue darkening a few shades as his pupils dilated.

"Don't you remember, young Avatar?"

His breath was hot on her lips, and she clawed at his arms when he kissed her, furiously, roughly, full of fire and _need._

"I'm saving you for last."


End file.
